You Still Matter
by Hoverboard33219
Summary: Connor Murphy was ready to end it. But when he met Evan Hansen, all that changed. AU, Dear Evan Hansen.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: I Try to Steer Through it a Million Ways

My black jeans and hoodie slid easily over my torso, skinny from my lack of eating. My shoes were worn in, to the point where you could take one look and see my toeprints and the exact shape and size of the arch of my foot. I'd had the same shoes for a year or so, despite my parents being filthy rich, I never bought anything.

I tore off my mattress to grab my pills (my real ones. I hid my actual prescribed pills under my mattress to draw attention away from my actual drug stashes), because, believe it or not, I actually took my prescribed medication. I sort of liked the feeling of the dry, dissolvable, pills on my tongue, the race to get them down my throat before the bitter, chalky taste escaped. I'd started taking capsules when I was thirteen, thinking they'd keep the bitterness in, only to discover that the capsules were slimy and for whatever reason, vaguely reminded me of frogs. So I'd started taking normal pills again.

That morning I'd woken up at about seven, then ran downstairs, ate a breakfast of Lucky Charms and chocolate milk in a little carton (I like my cereal dry. Sue me), and then promptly decided I should kill myself.

Slowly, as I ate breakfast, the rest of the family began to trickle in. I took the opportunity to rekindle the argument from yesterday, saying, "I'm staying home today."

"It's your senior year, Connor!" Cynthia, my mom, sighed. "You aren't missing your first day!"

"I already said I'd go tomorrow!" I argued.

"Are you going to get involved, or are you too busy on your email, Larry?" Cynthia asked my dad, Larry, annoyed.

"You have to go to school, Connor," Larry said disinterestedly.

"That's all you're going to say?" Cynthia sniped.

"What do you want me to say?" Larry said, exasperated. "He doesn't listen. Look at him. He's probably high."

"He's definitely high," my little sister, Zoe, chimed in. I'm not sure, but I don't think I was high that morning. I usually get high in the afternoon, but I might have made an exception that day.

"Fuck you!" I spat at Zoe.

"Fuck you!" Zoe shouted back.

Cynthia waved her hands. "I don't need you picking at your brother right now, that's not constructive." Of course. Classic Cynthia. Blaming Zoe. I loved it.

"Are you kidding?" Zoe asked, drumming her foot on the ground. But she wasn't surprised. It happened every day.

"Besides, he is not high," Cynthia said.

She looked at me to confirm it. I grinned in my cereal bowl.

"I don't want you going to school high, Connor! We talked about this!" _You shouldn't have to_ , I thought. Surely normal kids didn't need reminding not to show up at school high.

"Perfect. Then I won't go," I suggested.

Look, I know. I'm on drugs, I'm a bad person, whatever. I was too far gone, though. Far too far gone. Or at least, I'd thought I was.

Cynthia began obsessively cleaning the dishes.

"Interstate's already jammed," Larry muttered to himself as he scrolled through Google Maps.

Zoe tried to pour milk for her cereal, then complained. "Connor finished the milk!"

I shrugged, then sipped out of my carton. Zoe looked at her phone. "If Connor's not ready, I'm leaving without him."

I left at that point to go get ready. I slipped on my shoes. I removed yesterday's deep blue from my nails and put on jet black. My go-to school color.

Even though I was older, and I could drive, Zoe always drove us to school. She said she didn't feel safe with me driving. I'd protested the same thing about her, but I'd tried to kill myself before and I guess Zoe's argument had a point.

I'd made a promise to myself, though. Two years ago, when I was fifteen. I'd promised that no matter _what_ , if I went, _I wasn't taking anyone with me_. That was the whole point of going. Getting away from everyone.

* * *

I walked into the hallways the same way I always did. And people reacted the same way as always: "Freak" being whispered to closest friends. The stares from classmates. God, I wanted out.

I'd been growing my hair out all summer. I'd started last winter, and it was finally long enough. I figured my dad would make me cut it soon enough, but I planned on dying with it.

Then Jared Kleinman stopped me.

"Hey, Connor," Jared called. "I'm loving the new hair lengths. Very school shooter chic."

Oh, _great_. We were entering a new phase of Connor insults. Last year there were some monster jokes (don't ask me), evil villain jokes, kidnapper jokes, and murderer jokes. Now school shooter jokes, huh? Hopefully I'd die before they could really take off. Then again, Jared Kleinman wasn't really a trendsetter.

I cast a withering glance at Jared.

"I was kidding," Jared said, actually a bit scared now. Good. "It was a joke."

"Yeah, no, it was funny," I said in a monotone. "I'm laughing." At that, I gave a short, creepy little chuckle. "Can't you tell?" I leaned closer to Jared. "Am I not laughing hard enough for you?"

Jared pretended to laugh along, but I could see the fear and hatred in his eyes. Jared didn't like to be humiliated. _What a hypocrite_ , I thought.

"You're such a freak," he muttered.

As Jared walked down the hall, and people cleared now that the drama was over, another senior wearing khakis and New Balance sneakers laughed nervously. I got the feeling he just didn't know what to say, and felt like he had to say something.

I wasn't going to hurt this kid. I was going to leave him along, I wasn't going to hurt him—

"What the fuck are you laughing at?"

Shit.

The kid looked wrapped up in his own thoughts. When I jerked him out of them, he stared at me. "What?" he asked.

No, I wasn't going to lash out. I hurt myself enough, no need to hurt other people—

"Stop fucking laughing at me."

Well, that did it. I officially had no self control.

"I'm not," the kid protested nervously.

Come on, Connor, stop fucking with this kid—

"You think I'm a freak?"

"No. I don't—" the kid tried to protest.

"I'm not the freak," I growled.

"But I wasn't—" the kid groveled. It felt really good, but really bad considering how good it felt.

"You're the fucking freak," I said. I shoved him, hard, and stormed off.

* * *

Later, I went into the computer lab.

My English classroom was out of spare paper. I'd noticed that when I spent lunch in there. I offered to get more paper for Mr. Harris, who was my favorite teacher. He'd thanked me.

God, that's the only time anyone ever fucking thanks me.

I was all ready and set to grab the paper and go when I saw a piece freshly printed. I touched it. Still warm. I picked it up, and looked at the first line.

 _Dear Evan Hansen_.

I looked around, and the only other person in the computer lab was the boy who I'd shoved, who was in the far corner. Oddly, I'd thought _his_ name was Evan Hansen. Only these computers had access to the printer, though. I guess he'd written some sort of letter to himself.

That's weird.

Anyway, I picked it up without looking at it and walked over to the kid. "Hey, is this yours?" I asked.

It took a moment before he could register I'd been talking to him. "Um. Yes."

" _Dear Evan Hansen_ , and your name is Evan Hansen, right?" I said.

"Yeah," Evan said.

"Nobody's signed your cast," I noticed.

"Yeah, no, nobody has," he shrugged, trying to play it cool.

"I'll sign it," I offered.

Yeah, I knew people would give him hell for it. But I wanted to show him, him of all people, that I wasn't a _complete_ dick.

I was just mostly a dick.

"No, really, you don't have to," he muttered.

"It's fine." I stressed that fact enough. "Do you have a Sharpie?"

It was a moment before he handed it over. I signed his cast huge, covering an entire side with the word _CONNOR_.

Good times.

"Do you want to ditch with me?" I suddenly offered.

"Ditch what?" Evan asked, not comprehending.

"Class," I explained patiently. "I had English this morning and that's the only class I give a shit about, so I was thinking of just ditching and go to the bookstore."

"Um, well, I need to do well in school," he started.

"No pressure," I said.

"Sure, yeah, I have a free period and stuff anyway," Evan said, grinning.

Well, I guess I wasn't going to kill myself that day.

There's always tomorrow.

* * *

We went to my favorite bookstore, a little place about five minutes away from school. We agreed to pick out three books for each other. I didn't know why I was being such a good person at that moment, why I'd decided to befriend him, but he seemed to be the only person giving me a chance lately.

Fuck it, I'd be friends with Evan Hansen.

During the car ride, Evan suddenly interrupted the song. "A-are you gay?"

"What makes you ask that, Hansen?" I asked, amused.

"Well, you have long hair, you paint your nails, you listen to Broadway music, and everyone calls you a queer," Evan explained.

I didn't tell people the truth, I never told people the truth. Yet I turned to him. "Tell me your darkest secret."

"Um, okay." Evan seemed unfazed. I liked that about him. He proceeded to telling me the most hilarious story I'd ever heard. He was a good storyteller.

"That's fucking _hilarious_ ," I giggled when he was done. I snorted with laughter. Then I turned serious. "Yes, Evan, I'm gay. I'd appreciate if you didn't go spreading the word, but yeah. I like guys."

We sat in silence, listening to Simon and Garfunkel's _I am a Rock_. Evan listened intently. "Story of your life?" he guessed.

"Something like that," I grinned. As much as everyone thought, when I was by myself I didn't blast angry music. Only when people could hear me would I do that.

"Homophobic dad?" he guessed again.

"OK, Hansen," I said. "You don't have to _guess_ parts of my life. Here. Here's my life story:

"Ever since I was a kid, my dad had been obsessed with me learning sports and shit. No dance. He got really mad when I tried to take dance lessons and he threw a fit. He tried to stop me from drawing but he realized a) he couldn't take paper and pencils away from me and b) boys could do art. Zoe gave some examples of famous male artists to get him off my back on that one. But nothing on other parts.

"What about you?" I asked. "What's your dad like?"

"I don't know," Evan said. He looked out the window. "He left when I was seven."

Then we truly delved into silence. When we pulled into the bookstore we immediately delved into our sections. We didn't pick out books for each other, but we did just read. Read books for ourselves. I handed Evan Suzanne Collins's _The Hunger Games_ and Chris Colfer's _Stranger Than Fanfiction_ , but just for him to read. He looked through them. I found a copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ , one of the few popular Shakespeare plays I hadn't read. When I picked it up, Evan said, "It's a good one. One of-of the best."

As we checked out, and bought the books, I felt better about myself than I had in a long time. I was no longer a dick, at least in the eyes of this one kid.

Well, that was enough for today.

We drove home in silence again. I dropped him back off at his house. His mom wasn't home.

"See you tomorrow," Evan told me as he left.

Well, I guess I was going to live another day as well. I was starting to think God (I was an atheist, I only used God in a metaphorical sense) sent Evan as a conspiracy to keep me alive.

* * *

When I got home I sat at my desk and wrote another poem. I wrote a lot of poems, mostly because they were the best way to express pain.

 _I planned to die today/I think I'll die tomorrow/But tomorrow never comes_

I thought of myself as a good poet, but maybe that was just my imagination talking.

 _Pain invades my head/I just sit there and take it/Not much longer though_

That one was a haiku. I mostly wrote short free verse, though. I thought about studying English or English literature or poetry in college. No, that was what I _planned_ to do. But of course Larry would probably say business or economics was better.

I thought about the day, about Evan, about how he asked me if I was gay, and how he asked me about my dad. But mostly how I thought about how he didn't accuse me of being a school shooter or a psychopath. He just…talked to me.

And I wrote my first happy poem in a long time.

 _I sit here/Waiting/For love and happiness/To come to me/But now/I know/I have to come/To them_

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **This is probably going to be the hardest fic to write I've ever written. Being in Connor's head involves a lot of angry thoughts, even if I mostly tune them out while writing. If you're wondering why Connor is going a bit OOC, that's why, and I'm sorry. Any requests (like, of anything you'd like to see) will be DEEPLY considered, as I'm still finding the tone for this fanfiction.**

 **Thanks for reading! Please favorite/follow/review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Falling in a Forest

After I wrote my poem, I went into my backyard. There was this perfect tree, in the corner of our backyard. I loved to climb on it, that was where I'd gotten so good at climbing.

I climbed it easily that day, even though I was clutching _Romeo and Juliet_ close to my chest the entire time. I sat in my favorite perch and read. Just read, and took in the view.

Around act three, I closed the book. I rested it in the nook, looked up, and started climbing higher. Higher than I'd ever climbed before.

I went on climbing another ten or so feet. I was above my house now. It was exhilarating, and it had all happened so damn _fast_ , and I just _breathed_ , and was _there_.

I closed my eyes. And just sat there.

* * *

I really didn't feel like climbing down.

A little while ago I had adopted a _fuck it_ attitude, and I didn't feel like climbing down. I could get my book later, but I wanted to get out of the tree without climbing down. I had decided on that, and in my head, there was now no option to break that decision.

So. Jumping out of the tree to the ground was out of the question. It was far too high, and I didn't feel like killing myself in that moment. The other option was jump to my house.

I was above my house, so if I pushed off the branch I could probably make it to my house. There was risk, but when is there _not_ risk?

I ran across the branch and took a huge leap. Well, I should've. On my last step, the branch cracked and I fell more backward than I'd intended. My left foot hit my roof and went right through, the rest of my body fell backward and slammed against the roof in a downward slope. My head and chest were off the side of the roof and I felt the blood rush to my head. I could hear my family talking inside.

"What was that crash?" My mom.

My dad cut in. "Zoe, can you go look outside?"

I couldn't hear, but I assumed Zoe sighed as she trudged out here. I _could_ hear the gasp when she saw me, looked up, and saw the cracked branch.

"Connor, what the _fuck_ did you do?" she growled. I just grunted, speaking was too difficult. When I didn't answer, she shouted for my parents.

"Connor! What happened?" my mom called out.

This time I tried to speak, but winced in the middle.

"He jumped out of the tree," Zoe observed. "You can see the book and the broken branch."

"If the branch is broken," my dad began, "he might've climbed up too high and fallen."

"If he fell, how'd he end up here?"

The conversation was interrupted with my involuntary scream as I tried to move my foot.

"Maybe we should help him," my mom interrupted, "and let him speak for himself."

* * *

The ride to the hospital was quiet. Nobody wanted to say anything, except Zoe complained and asked why she had to come.

The doctor said I broke my ankle, and that I'd have to stay in the hospital while I had surgery. All of what he said was very boring and unpleasant, so I didn't pay too much attention to it. If I was a doctor, I would say I had ADHD, but it could also be a side effect of all the drugs I took. _Fortunately_ , I hadn't taken anything that day, or the day before. That meant everything but pot was probably out of my system.

Now, I'd researched before whether or not pot interacted with some of the pain drugs, and apparently it does, but I _also_ did not want to get in trouble, so I kept my mouth shut, as the doctor didn't ask. Who cared anyway if my brain got fucked up with the interactions?

My only non-family visitor – I know, very confusing why I had a non-family visitor – was Evan.

"I guess we both now have fallen out of trees, huh?" he joked.

"I didn't fall. I was trying to land on the roof."

"Misjudged the jump?" Evan offered sympathetically.

"No. The branch under me broke."

"Well. I'm sorry, C-Connor. I-If you ever need to talk—"

"I don't need help," I snapped. "And I'm not a charity case. Just because we hung out _once_ doesn't make me your _project_. Do me a favor and leave me alone."

Evan looked hurt, more hurt than I had intended, but he just swallowed and stood up and left. I could hear from outside Zoe talking to him. I wonder what she said.

* * *

When I woke up, I was holding _Romeo and Juliet_ in my hands. I thought I was dreaming at first. I did dream, actually. I dreamed of being home in bed. I dreamed of dying in bed, with nobody there to see me.

On a cheerier note, somebody gave me _Romeo and Juliet_. I started reading, getting lost in it, from Tybalt's death to Romeo's. Zoe came in about an hour after I woke up.

"He got that for you, you know," she told me, after seeing the book in my hand.

"What?"

"Evan came out and told me we had to get the book for you, and asked if I knew where it was. I took him outside and he climbed the tree. He's pretty good at climbing trees, actually. But you yelled at him, and then he did this for you. Think about other people, once in a while?"

"Sure, yeah, of course," I said sarcastically.

"I know what you did," she said quietly.

"Lying to the doctor?"

Zoe's eyes shot wide open. "You lied to the doctor?"

 _Fuck_ , apparently she meant something else. "What were _you_ talking about?"

"You jumped out of the tree."

"That's true."

"You wanted to die."

"Hold up." I chuckled. "I mean to land on the roof."

"Why wouldn't you just climb down?"

"I didn't want to."

"You left your book in the tree. You wouldn't have done that unless you weren't planning to come down."

"Jesus, Zoe—"

"I'm not messing around, Connor!" Her voice was concerned and intense at once. "I'm not joking! You think I want you to die?"

"I haven't always thought you cared."

"No. You never think people care. You never care about people."

"I mean, that's true," I laughed.

"Stop laughing! Stop! This is serious." Zoe looked hurt.

In that moment, I looked inside myself. What did I feel? What did I want? I didn't feel some kind of strong pull in any direction. I wanted to know what I felt.

I didn't feel anything.

* * *

 **I know I haven't posted anything in a while, but I have starting writing on this story again. I will try to post semi-regularly, as I have time again. Thanks for sticking with me!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Stars in Our Eyes

Despite my shouting at him, me and Evan kept going to the bookstore. I read more and more books, be it Shakespeare or Kerouac, or poems, or fantasy. I made Evan read _Howl_ , and he made me read about trees.

Not kidding. Trees.

I wasn't stable, per se. I had my ups and downs, and some days I just didn't get out of bed and lay there. But I liked to think the good times were increasing.

Eventually, my ankle healed. We repaired the roof, and my dad told me if he caught me up high in the tree again he'd ground me. I ignored him, obviously.

The first sign of change came one day in the bookstore. I was browsing the Shakespeare section, I saw another boy there, a boy I didn't recognize, at least from the back. He had short blonde hair and a tank top that showed off his muscles. Looking closer, I thought I recognized him, but I still couldn't see a face.

Well, what the hell.

"Hey," I said.

The boy turned around and I became a lot more anxious when I saw it was Jack Goodman, a popular basketball player at school. Pretend I was interested in what he was reading, I guess? He was reading _Macbeth_ , so that was easy. But before I could say something, he smiled back.

"Hey."

"You liking _Macbeth_?" was the first thing I could think of saying.

"Well, you know, we had to pick a book for Mr. Edwards's class. This seemed like the best one on the list," Jack told me casually. "What did you pick?"

"I picked _Macbeth_ because I'd already read it," I admitted. Jack burst into a big grin.

"You wanna help me with it? English isn't my best subject," Jack offered, still smiling.

"Of course, I'd love to," I replied, grinning back even more. "I'll come by later?"

Jack agreed, checked out and left the bookstore. Evan walked over to me, smiling.

"Are you going to ask him out?"

"That involves telling him I'm gay," I replied.

"What's so bad about that?"

"Please, Evan, you're straight. You don't understand."

"Okay, well, you'll have to tell people eventually."

"As soon as I graduate, I'm getting out of this dump. I'll move somewhere better and cut contact with everyone who doesn't know, because everyone I give a damn about knows."

"You don't give a damn about your parents?" Evan asked skeptically.

"No. I don't." I took a breath, and laughed. "Maybe on my dad's deathbed, I'll come up to him, say, 'I'm gay,' and spit in his face."

Evan started mumble-laughing.

"Atta boy. If you were me, you'd do the same thing."

* * *

Jack's house was nice. He lived on the rich side of town, like I did. The doorbell was extravagant and I had fun pressing it a few times before he answered. Luckily, he wasn't annoyed.

"Hey, Connor, come on in," he told me, that ever-present smile on his face. "How are you?"

"I'm doing okay," I lied. Why was it a lie? I don't know. I didn't pay enough attention to my feelings to make a firm ruling, but I probably wasn't okay.

Jack nodded, and got out his copy of _Macbeth_ (he was using The Arden Shakespeare), and we talked about it for a while. Hours were passing and I was talking about a book I loved with a boy who wasn't bad to look at.

A few hours later, Jack smiled and shook his head. "You know, all the guys at school say you're a serial killer or something."

I raised my eyebrows. "Charming."

"No, no, no." Jack facepalmed. "That came out wrong. I meant that you seem like an actual good person. I – you know, the guys, they also say you're queer."

Of course they did. But some small grain of hope was building inside me. "And?"

"Are you?"

What the hell. "Yes. But I'd prefer the word 'gay.'"

Jack looked embarrassed. "Yeah. Of course. Look, I was hoping to run in to you because everyone says you're… _gay_ , and I am too, and I thought you were cute, so I wanted to ask you out?" He was completely rambling by the end.

I just couldn't believe this was happening. "Yeah! I'd love to."

Jack broke into a big grin.

* * *

On the way home, I thought a lot.

I thought about Jack. I liked him a lot, but I also didn't know him that well. It could still be some kind of joke.

On the other hand, hanging out with him, talking about books, talking about being gay and hiding it from everyone, it all felt so much _better_ than life usually did. Everything else needed drugs to feel this good. Even spending time with other people, like Evan, didn't compare.

I thought about Evan telling me to come out. Maybe I would, eventually. I'd gotten a huge burst of confidence and felt better than usual. Since meeting Jack, I hadn't thought about killing myself. Now, I know that's only a few hours, but suicide came up often in my thoughts, even in passing. Instead, I just thought of when next I'd see Jack.

I finished walking home in a giddy buzz. I opened the door cautiously and slipped unnoticed into the hallway. I wasn't doing anything wrong by coming home at this time, but something about what happened made me feel like I had to sneak around. My dad saw me before I got to the stairs, and my giddiness was still showing on my face.

"What's going on, Connor?" my dad asked, somewhat taken aback I looked so happy.

"Nothing bad," I grinned, and I walked up the stairs. I could hear my parents talking in the kitchen.

"What's going on with him?" my mom asked. "He seems… _happier_ than usual."

"Maybe it's a girl," my dad suggested. And the way he said it, you'd think he just won the lottery.

It made me want to throw up.

* * *

 **I know the chapters are pretty short right now, and they will get longer. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: No One Understands Except Us Two

I began spending more and more time with Jack, talking about Shakespeare, and poetry (which I found out he also liked), and books, and our families. I knew that Jack felt more pressure from his family to get a girlfriend, and he considered trying to find someone to be his beard, and I jokingly suggested he should just act super creepy so none of the girls liked him.

I still hung out with Evan, sometimes. Less and less, but sometimes. He hung out with Zoe more and more. I spent less and less time with my parents, avoiding them as much as I could because every time I saw my dad I remembered that sick-to-my-stomach feeling.

I got home after school one October day and lay flat on my bed, not moving until my phone started buzzing. I had a text from Jack, and one from Evan.

 _Evan Hansen: Can you come over? I really need to talk about something._

 _Jack Goodman: If you're free, wanna hang out?  
_

Evan's text seemed much more urgent, and Jack's much more carefree, this was basically the same text Jack sent every day if we hadn't already planned to meet up. But, I made my decision without much hesitation.

 _To Evan: I can talk to you later tonight._

 _To Jack: I'll be there in fifteen minutes._

* * *

When I finally got to Evan's house, hours later, he looked annoyed, in that polite don't-be-rude way he had.

"What were you doing?" he asked.

"I was with Jack," I told him.

The irritation levels in him rose visibly. "Was he having some kind of emergency?"

"No." Evan shook his head at me saying this. I was starting to get ticked off. "What?"

"I really needed you, Connor!"

"Evan, I can choose who I hang out with when. Just because we're friends doesn't mean I have to be on call for you 24/7," I explained.

"What would you know about what being a friend means?"

"What would _you_?" I shot back.

"Zoe."

"Right. If Zoe counts for you, I've got Jack. Evan. Do I want to be your friend? Yes. Do I have a boyfriend for the first time in my life? Also yes. Am I going to prioritize him? Sometimes. What was it you needed help with?"

"It's not an issue anymore."

I crossed my arms. "Fine. Be like that."

"I do have a question to ask you," Evan said after a half a minute of silence and me repeatedly raising my eyebrows at him.

"Shoot."

"Are you okay with me dating Zoe?"

"That's news to me," I laughed. "Why do you have to ask me?"

"W-well, you're her brother, and I thought—" Aww, Evan's stutter comes back when he's put on the spot. Adorable.

"Evan, I hate my sister. If you see something in her, good for you. You probably aren't gonna find anyone else willing to date you—"

"Connor!" Evan gasped. "You're – that's really rude."

"Good thing _you're_ here to tell me about it. The point is, if you like her, go for it."

"W-well, we've already started dating—"

"That was fast!"

"Connor, I've known her since you broke your foot."

I thought back, and I guess that _was_ a while go. I also realized I paid so little attention to my sister, I hadn't noticed she had a boyfriend, even if that boyfriend was one of the only two friends I had.

"Well, good luck. Have fun. Be safe!"

* * *

It went on like that for a while. I hung out with Jack, occasionally with Evan, and it took another few weeks before Zoe confronted me in my room.

"Connor, Evan says you're ignoring him."

"If Evan says I'm ignoring him, why isn't Evan here to tell me about it?"

Zoe snorted. "You know Evan, he's not one for confrontation. I asked him what you were doing instead, but he just mumbled said he couldn't talk about it."

I was very pleased with Evan in that moment. He was mad at me, and he chose not to out me to his _girlfriend_.

"Connor, I know what this means for you. You're doing drugs again, aren't you?"

To be honest, I had to stop doing drugs when I broke my foot and had the pain meds, and I hadn't really started up again because of Jack. Zoe didn't know that, though.

"Do you want a drug test, Zoe?" I laughed a little. "I'm not taking anything."

"Then what the hell are you doing that warrants that response from Evan? Do you have some kind of secret girlfriend?"

Here we go again. "No, Zoe, I don't have a secret girlfriend."

"Then answer me what's really going on, or I'll tell Mom and Dad that you're doing drugs."

"They won't care."

"Connor, why won't you tell me anything?" I could hear Zoe getting frustrated. Good.

"When did I ever tell you anything?"

"When we were younger…"

"Okay. We're not five anymore. I'm seventeen. You're sixteen." I snorted. "Why would I tell you all my deepest darkest secrets? If they even were deep and dark? For all you know I've joined the basketball team or something."

Zoe raised her eyebrows. "First of all, if you joined the basketball team, I'd hear about it." Of course. My sister, ever the popular one. "Second of all, if you'd joined the basketball team, you wouldn't have put up so much of a fuss about not telling me."

Evan appeared in the doorway (I hadn't even known he was home). "W-what's going on?"

" _Connor_ won't tell me what he's been doing all this time."

Evan looked me in the eyes. "Connor, you should – have you considered telling her?"

"Yes," I said flatly. "I have. And I won't."

Zoe turned to Evan. "Is it bad?"

Evan shook his head. "No."

"Will _I_ think it's bad?"

Evan turned to look at me. "No."

"How would you know?" I asked dryly.

"Remember what you said about the male artists?"

"Those are very different things! Besides, we hate each other now!"

Zoe's gaze softened. "I don't hate you, Connor."

"Fine! You want to know so badly?" I jumped off my bed. Zoe nodded eagerly. "I'm gay. I have a boyfriend. _That's_ who I've been with."

Zoe's face softened even more. "Connor, I don't care that you're gay."

"Sure," I said, positive something else was coming.

"But you still shouldn't ditch Evan."

"Of course. Bye now."

And while I said _of course_ , of course I didn't mean it.

Yes, a play on words, I know.

* * *

Anyway, I continued to spend less and less time with my family and Evan. One day, Jack asked,

"Are you okay with spending this much time together? I mean, you have your sister, and that boy who was at the bookstore with you – I forget his name?"

"His name is Evan Hansen. And yeah, it's completely fine. Don't worry about it," I told him.

Apparently Zoe _did_ worry about it, so the next time I saw Jack, he told me, "Your sister told me you're ignoring your friends."

"I'm not ignoring my friends," I replied. "You're my friend, and I'm not ignoring you."

Jack stared at me. "Tell me the truth, Connor. Are you ignoring your other friends?"

" _Friends_ , no. I only have one friend."

"Jesus Christ, Connor, just tell me if you're ignoring him!"

I hung my head. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Jack, I'm not obligated to hang out with people! Besides, Evan has a girlfriend, he'll be fine."

Jack looked shocked. " _Evan_ has a _girlfriend_?"

"What do _you_ know about Evan?" I asked defensively.

"I know that he's the quiet kid who stutters a lot and I can't remember his name half the time!"

I laughed. "Fair point. But. Aren't you ignoring your friends too? I mean, you hang out with me all the time, but you're on the basketball team and you're popular! Don't you have other things to do?"

Jack got quiet. After a long moment, he said, "Yeah. Maybe I do need to spend more time with them."

I immediately regretted saying anything, even if I didn't understand why he was so upset, but all words disappeared out of my mouth. "I'll see you later," I finally mustered.

"Yeah."

* * *

When I got home, Zoe was there to meet me at the door. "Connor, Mom and Dad know something's up with you."

Oh joy. "What do they think?" I sighed.

"Just that something's up with you. That you're doing drugs again, probably is what Dad thinks. Mom…I don't know. You know Mom, she tries to think the best of you. Anyway, Connor, be careful, please. At least, if you don't want to be found out."

"Yeah," I said. "I don't."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Just Keep Pushing Through

It was the end of school on Friday, and I was in the bathroom before leaving to go to Jack's house. I could hear sniffling and crying, and when I got out, I saw Evan on the floor, bawling his eyes out.

"Evan, you okay?" I asked. I knew he wasn't okay, though. It was obvious. He was shaking and sobbing.

I was working through my mind, trying to figure out what to do, when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

 _Jack: Where are you?_

Fuck. I turned to Evan, with what I hoped to be an apologetic look on my face – not that he was looking at me – and said, "Look, Evan, I'm sorry, but I need to go. I'm really sorry."

And I ran out the bathroom door.

* * *

I got in Jack's car and mostly forgot Evan's panic attack. He'd be fine. But Jack wouldn't look at me.

"Connor, I've been thinking."

"Thinking's never good. Maybe you should see a doctor," I joked.

"I'm being serious."

I got quiet. Jack continued. "Connor, I love spending time with you. I love hanging out with you. I just – I – Connor, my dad saw you leaving yesterday."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. I'm not coming out. At all costs I am not coming out. I told my dad you were tutoring me—"

"Which _was_ true," I pointed out.

"Yeah. But I don't want to risk anything happening. We can't do this anymore." Jack looked at me with apology in his eyes but I just looked away.

"I'm sorry, Connor."

I stood up and stormed out.

* * *

When I got home, Zoe was _absolutely pissed_ at me. I was too upset to laugh, but normally I would've. Making Zoe mad has always been fun.

"You've always been self-centered, but this is a new low," Zoe growled. I walked on by her, and she was left shouting at my back.

"What's this about?" I grumbled.

"Leaving Evan while he was having a panic attack!"

Oh, right.

I thought about it for a minute, trying to find some kind of remorse. But I didn't.

"Zoe, everyone's had panic attacks. If he can't deal with them on his own, he'll never make it anywhere." My tone was careless and bored, and Zoe could sense that.

"What the hell is up with you, Connor? I thought he was your friend!"

"He's not my boyfriend."

Something dawned in Zoe's eyes. "You – you _like_ Evan?"

I laughed heartily at how off her suggestion was. "First of all, he's straight. Second of all, quiet stuttering losers _aren't_ my type. I meant that a boyfriend comes before a friend."

"Do I need to have another talk with Jack?" Zoe threatened.

"Don't bother. We broke up."

"Tonight?"

"Yes!" I was getting frustrated with Zoe and I couldn't figure out why.

"So you left Evan on the ground to go hang out with your boyfriend, you broke up, and you don't even have a sliver of remorse for going?"

"Evan needs to stand up for himself," I repeated. But I no longer cared about getting my point across. It's a funny feeling, when you realize you no longer give a shit. I couldn't really feel anything, though. I felt like I was on something really weird.

"Connor, you know he's not there yet."

"Why the fuck is it my job to help him?"

Zoe wasn't crying, but there were tears in her eyes as she shouted at me.

"Why the fuck is it my job to deal with you?"

Maybe a week ago I would've had some self-introspective moment, thought about Zoe's feelings, but I didn't. I didn't care how she felt. She lowered her voice, but continued.

"Why can't you just tell Mom and Dad, Connor? I _can't_ be your emotional crutch. I'm not equipped for that. I don't know how to deal with you."

I started walking out of my room as Zoe kept talking at me, asking where I was going, what I was doing. I got outside to my tree, and started climbing. All the while Zoe just kept shouting, again asking me what I was doing. When I got to the top, and the broken branch, I launched myself off (and did a flip, which I was pretty proud of) and landed on the roof. A jolt went up my ankles, but I didn't care, because I'd done it.

Zoe was less than impressed. "I give up, Connor," she sobbed. "Go do whatever you want but I can't help you anymore."

That's when I realized I still gave a shit about something. So I stopped feeling, and giving a shit, and I felt free.

* * *

 **Next chapter is going to be the most intense yet, so be prepared for that. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Trigger warning at the end.  
**

* * *

Chapter 6: When the Villains Fall

Pretending to feel emotion is exhausting.

To be honest, I don't really know why I stopped feeling anything. When I was with Jack, I felt so much good stuff, and I _wasn't_ hiding anything, and I was with someone who understood exactly what I was going through. And now…without Jack, and without Evan, all of that light and good energy is gone. I'm back to the same old Connor I was at the beginning of the school year, but now I know what I'm missing. Feeling emotion is only good if there's good emotion to feel – but forget it, I'm Connor Murphy, my fate is already sealed. I'll be _alone_ , forever, all the time, and cutting out all emotion is the only way to stay sane.

But _pretending_ to feel emotion is exhausting. I went to school, I pretended to learn and pretended to feel and came home and lay down on my bed, just spent. One day Evan appeared at my door.

"Connor, are you alright?" Evan hadn't been stuttering as much, but I wasn't paying enough attention to figure out when it happened.

I tried to make a muffled reply while I was still face down on my pillow. _No_ , I badly wanted to say. But I couldn't get the words out, and Zoe caught up to Evan.

"Don't worry about him," she said stiffly. "He'll be fine."

Evan cast one more glance at me before going away as well.

And that _really_ got me thinking.

Jack was gone. Evan was gone. Zoe was gone. But, more importantly, I thought back to that first day of school. I'd wanted to kill myself, hadn't I? I'd made a plan and everything, and I'd met Evan, and had a friend, and scrapped the plans and tried life. And…life bit me in the ass and now I'm here.

Did I have a reason to stay alive anymore? Evan was my reason. _Jack_ was my reason. And if I did want to live, how the hell could I rewrite my life? I'd have to come out, and Jack would still be closeted. My grades were shit, so I'd never go to college. My body was sick and tired and ready to quit. So was my mind.

My future was bleak. And I was _tired_. I just couldn't do it anymore. And even as I rambled to myself in my head, weighing down millions of scenarios, I knew I'd made up my mind. I'd do what I couldn't before. If you thought about it, I was kind of _brave_.

I'd die, and everyone would remember the best parts of me. I'd never have to face the things I was too cowardly to face. I'd move on, if there was a moving on.

* * *

 _To Whom Might Be Concerned,_

 _I'm done. I'm gone. What's going in here isn't my problem anymore._

 _Mom and Dad: I'm gay. Sorry that you have to deal with that, but I'm gay. I was seeing a boy named Jack Goodman from school all that time I was away._

 _Zoe and Evan: Have fun with life. You'll be better off without me dragging you down._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Connor_

* * *

It was late, and Evan was going home, making a quick stop in the bathroom first. But the door was locked, and when he knocked, there was no answer.

"Connor?" Evan called out. Cynthia and Larry had their own en-suite bathroom, so it was unlikely they'd be in there. But there was still no reply.

Zoe heard him calling and joined him, walking over. She rapped on the door. "Connor, are you in here?" At continued silence, she said, "Mom? Dad?"

Still no answer, but the door stood firm. Finally, Zoe shouted, "Connor, if you're in there, I hope you're clothed, because I'm picking the lock."

Evan raised his eyebrows. "You can pick locks?"

"These ones? You just need a LEGO spear, or something like that. Can you go find one in my room?"

Evan obliged, and it didn't take him long to find a small box labeled "PICKS" containing small objects such as what Zoe described. He grabbed one and raced back over. Zoe made quick work of the lock, but the sight when the door opened shocked them both.

The note was displayed prominently and Zoe quickly picked it off of Connor's body. It didn't take her long to read the note, and she immediately took out her phone to dial 911. Even if she hated her brother – or was encouraging Evan to ignore him – she wasn't about to let him die.

Evan took the note from her and washed it in the sink until it was a soggy pulp. Zoe looked back at him, confused. "Why would you do that? Don't you think – if he wants them to know – they should know?"

"It's not fair to Jack," Evan explained quietly. He didn't feel like saying much, as he was staring at a barely living body. The 911 call went through, and Zoe started talking. Evan exhaled, but they weren't out of the woods yet.

* * *

Larry, Cynthia, Evan, and Zoe sat in the hospital, waiting for news on Connor. It had been a few hours, and Larry finally broke the silence.

"You two know something that I don't." It was obvious it was targeted to the two teenagers, but Larry wasn't looking at either of them.

"How do you figure that?" Zoe asked, her tone even.

"There wasn't a note," Larry said. "He left a note last time."

Zoe tensed up. "Last time?"

"If you tell us what the note said – or what was going on with my son – I'll tell you," Larry offered.

Zoe shook her head, but pulled out her phone and began texting Evan.

 _Zoe: Should we?_

 _Evan: They need to know. Connor's obviously miserable._

 _Zoe: But if they disown him – or try to change him – now, it'll be even worse._

 _Evan: You're probably right._

Zoe turned off her phone. She had guessed Evan would probably agree with her no matter what, but she'd convinced herself and that was what mattered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zoe said steely.

* * *

When I woke up, the first thought that went through my mind was, _Oh, fuck_. Guess I failed.

But as soon as my second thought came into my head – the note – I went into panic mode. I wanted my parents to know I was gay if I died because I didn't know if Zoe and Evan would tell them. I _didn't_ want them to know if I was alive.

And Jack. Man, I was being selfish. I included him in the note to punish him, not to explain my actions. But I didn't feel bad about it, either.

Now everyone would know. But I was still here, my hospital bed was being paid for, so maybe everything was okay?

After a minute of me thinking very deeply about what my next move was, nurses and doctors came in to talk to me. After that, Zoe and my parents came in. The first thing Zoe did was mime tearing up paper. My eyes widened, and she nodded.

My parents didn't know. My note was gone.

* * *

 **TW: Attempted suicide (not graphic).**


End file.
